


Never Leaving

by nymja



Series: Do or Do Not [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5835358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymja/pseuds/nymja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There’s a saying. Some of the older ones used it at the outpost: coming back isn't the same as never leaving."</p><p>--</p><p>Luke Skywalker and Rey return to the Resistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Leaving

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Do or Do Not series, though can be read as a standalone.

He remembers the last day.

At first, it had been confusion. He’d been out on a supply run when the distress calls started lighting up his comm. He watched, as the signals for the channels immediately flared up and almost as quickly dimmed—small, little candles extinguishing quietly.

Then, it had been knowing.

He heard their cries. Felt their fears. Sensed lights trying to breathe under suffocation. He sat, sharing their pain and then sharing nothing.

Then, it had been despair.  
  
\--

He remembers their names.  
It’s the only thing of theirs he can still keep.  
  
\--

Their arrival is a quiet affair. Luke’s a little embarrassed about the quality of his landing, if he’s being honest. For so much of his life, his one dream was to be up in the air—returning to it after so many years feels like trying to make out a song from an echo. They received clearance from the command center, and he sets his old fighter down on the airstrip—it’s a little bumpy, a little off-center. He used to be able to land in his sleep. Life is starting to feel like a muscle that’s atrophied.

His chest rises and falls in quick little motions, and it occurs to him that he’s nervous. Maybe afraid.

Luke looks out the viewport. It’s late here, and the building in front of him is mostly underground. There is nothing but grass, the endless stretches of it only broken up by the small red lights of the guard and comm towers. The night sky is unpolluted, the stars bright and the moons brighter.

 _Still._ He thinks. It’s all so still. And it won’t be for long.

He closes his eyes. And there it is. A heartbeat. A pulse. A presence. It’s only now, after so long of not having his other half, that Luke realizes how wounded he’s been. How wounded he’s made her.

He opens his eyes. In the distance, one figure emerges from the doors of the base. Just a silhouette, barely more than a shadow.

“You know,” Rey says softly behind him, “There’s a saying. That some of the older ones used at the outpost.”

Luke isn’t able to face her in the cramped confines of the fighter, but she has his attention.

“Coming back isn’t the same as never leaving.” His student starts to slowly undo her safety webbing. “I never really understood it before, but I guess I’m learning.” He hears her methodical movements. Rey presses every button with care, raises the hatch with deliberate slowness. She’s giving him time, he realizes. “For the longest time, all I wanted to do was stay on Jakku. I’d sit, for hours, watching the shipyard—and I’d see it all. People going. People coming back.”

She clears her throat, and Luke can sense her memories of sadness, of loneliness, as though they were tangible things. “Then, _I_ got to be one of those people. I got to come back. You know what I saw?”

“No,” Luke whispers.

“That it was the same. Unkar was still kriffing people over. The acid baths were still full. I got a sunburn and sand got everywhere.” Rey steps out of the fighter to move to the docking ladder. She rests on her haunches, an elbow on one knee as she looks up. “But I wasn’t, though. _I_ was different.”

She rests a shoulder on his hand, and Luke looks at her instead of the figure slowly approaching them. Rey’s hazel eyes are bright, her smile kind.

“Homes are homes because you get to go back to them, even if you’re not the same.” She tilts her head, and looks down. To where their sole welcomer stands. “And sometimes, what you go back to isn’t a place.”

Luke swallows. He rests his hand on top of hers.

“Thank you,” he finally manages.

She nods, squeezes his shoulder, and descends the metal stairwell. Luke watches, as she climbs to the bottom. Then jogs to the figure waiting for them.

Luke breathes in, as the figure hugs Rey for a long, long time. They speak for a few seconds, and then Rey moves to her side.

Luke breathes out.  
_Coming back isn’t the same as never leaving._

He undoes the webbing in slow, steady movements. Grabs the railing of the docking pad, and lifts himself out. Keeps moving forward.

In the dim light of the airstrip, Luke Skywalker walks until he stands before Leia Organa.

She steps forward, Rey standing a little behind. She’s in her nightwear. Her hair is greyer. Her brown eyes are warm and rimmed in tears.

“You look terrible,” she whispers. “Long flight?”

Something knits back together.

His sister opens her arms, and Luke falls into them and weeps.

\--

He’ll remember this as a first day.

\--

It’s going to take time. All things do.

When Luke tries to talk to people, it’s difficult. When he tries to talk to old friends, it’s worse.  There is noise and vitality, overwhelming and suffocating. There is _too much_ and at times it feels like _too_ _soon._

Which is how he finds his way here.

 _The Millennium Falcon_ was never a good ship, no matter how well Han flew it. Even walking through, Luke can see spaces on the walls missing their paneling, wires exposed along the lighting systems. When he moves by the old dejarik board, his foot connects with something. There’s a hollow, tinny noise and Luke looks down, watching as a training remote rolls across the floor.

 _“Remember, a Jedi Knight can feel the Force_ flowing _through him.”_

Luke bends over and picks it up, rotating it in the palm of his mechanical hand.

_“Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a blaster at your side, kid.”_

“Makes you feel old, doesn’t it?”

Luke turns. Leia leans against the entrance of the room, a wry expression on her face.

He looks at the remote. At the ancient weapon Han felt the need to keep around, and manages a nod.

Something in his sister softens, and she steps closer. “You alright?”

He knows she doesn’t need to ask that. He walks forward, until he stands before a viewport. People, not waves, move back and forth in set patterns in the docking bay. All going through motions they know and understand. A rhythm, one he hasn’t heard in some time. Leia stands next to him and stays silent.

He sees a freighter land. As soon as its doors lower, a young man in a leather jacket bolts out—running full speed through the assembly. People shout as he cuts in front of them, and Luke hears his distorted ‘Sorry, got somewhere to be!’ echo throughout the bay.

“Finn,” Leia explains. “A former Stormtrooper.”

For the first time since landing, a smile forms on Luke’s face. “I’ve heard about him.”

His sister bumps her shoulder against his, a playful motion that startles him. “He’s sweet on her,” she speculates, amused.

Luke watches, as Rey emerges from the opposite side of the hanger bay. Finn barrels into her, nearly knocking her to the ground. Her cry of shock and his laugh ring loud and clear—a chime in the _too much_. A BB unit wheels around their feet in excited circles.

People going. People coming back.

Luke looks away from his student and her friend, instead facing Leia.

She keeps staring out the viewport. “Don’t.”

He swallows. “Don’t what?”

“Apologize.” Leia turns. For not the first time, Luke is in awe of the strength she holds. Her presence in the Light. How, even when anger and grief fill her, she does not lose resolve.

“You needed me,” he confesses.

“That’s right.” Her hand rests on his arm. “I needed _you._ ”

“And…” he swallows. “If I never came back?”

Leia looks back out the viewport. “You’re not the only one who puts faith in people, Luke.”

He follows her gaze. Another man, in an orange flightsuit, has joined in on the reunion. Rey’s smile is wide as she’s lifted up into a hug.

His last student. The only one that survived. The one that woke him up.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he whispers. “So much has been done that can’t be changed.”

She leans up, and kisses him on the cheek. “You can start by proving me right.”

\--

He and Rey still eat breakfast together. It’s still his synthporridge. She still chews with her mouth open. Typically, he’ll then spend the day in his quarters or somewhere else quiet. Isolated. A place where he can gather his thoughts without the noise or stares. He might meet Leia for dinner.

Today, he tries instead.

“I’d like to meet Finn.”

Rey pauses from where she’s shoveling food. And grins. “Let’s do lunch.”

\--

Finn is not what he expected of a Stormtrooper. He talks, and _talks,_ hands always in motion. He smooths his shirt down, he tells stories. He expresses himself without hesitation—an arm over Rey’s shoulders, a face that never settles into one look. He smiles and laughs.

Luke _hears_ Finn, another presence.  
Another spark.

Rey looks at him from across the table, and her gaze is understanding.  
Even in darkness, the stubborn lights survive.

\--

He remembers their names.  
Aalto. Dena. Graal. Valaila. Soran. Thalassa. Tare. Kev. Janara. Max. Thudro-Shan. Mjurgo. Jakib. Dolari. Ava.  


Ben.  
Rey.  
He sits in his room, attempting to meditate, and wonders if he has the courage to start a new list. One which begins where the last ended.  
  
\--

It’s going to take time.

\--

Leia comes into his rooms one night, two steaming mugs of cocoa in her hand. She looks tired, they all look tired these days.

“Can I come in?”

He nods, making way and gesturing to a spot across the table. She moves to sit, sliding the mug across to him. Luke wraps his hands around it. Closes his eyes. Smells.

“Figured it’s been a while,” Leia states, taking a sip of her own.

He brings it to his lips. The drink is scalding and sweet, comforting. They used to do this every week, him and her. When time allowed. When obligation didn’t factor in.

Ben used to join them. When he was younger.

The drink burns his tongue. Luke sets it down.

“I know this is hard.” Leia rests her hand on the table. She’s still wearing the ring Han gave to her, the one he won in a card game. Everyone but Han knew it was a knock-off piece, but that never stopped Leia from loving it. Very little ever stopped Leia from loving, once she decided to do it.

“I’m trying.”

“I know.”

They drink their cocoa in silence. The bond between them is strong as ever, but hard to comprehend. Another part of him, unused and awkward from distance. But they can still feel each other, and Luke therefore knows what it is she wants to talk about.

“I failed before,” he finally says. “And the price was too high.”

“I know,” Leia echoes, softer this time. “Better than anyone, I know.”

The light overhead catches on the false gold, and Luke feels loss once more. Sharp and acute, a twisting that has never quite left him even though nearly everything else has—these are Leia’s feelings, not his own.

“I won’t risk Rey.”

“I wouldn’t want you to.”

Luke closes his eyes, pained. His voice breaks. “I loved Ben too, Leia.”

“…I know.” Leia swallows. “Just like I know he’s not gone.”

His mind drifts. He sees the comm lights, bright then snuffed out. Hears echoes of their screams. One of them, he knows, had been Rey’s.

Another had been his nephew’s.

“I lost my students.”

Leia’s grief is strong in the Force. A ragged thing. “I lost my planet, once. My father. My husband.” It tears, fraying at the edges. “My brother.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“And I told you not to apologize.” Leia stands, walking toward the door. Her hand rests on Luke’s shoulder as she passes him.

“It’s time to come home, Luke.”

\--

They have breakfast the next day. Synthporridge. With berries.

Rey meets his gaze from across the table. She’s sitting in the same chair Leia occupied the night before.

“Luke?”

“Yes?”

She takes in a slow, focusing breath. Like he taught her. She manages another spoonful of synthporridge. “I’m with you, whatever you decide.”

Luke stares into the face of the only hope he has left, and gives a slow nod.

It’s going to take time.  
But there’s going to be a new day.


End file.
